


Missing You Already

by Tainted_Grace



Series: Stiles x OFC Verse [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anchor Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Fluff, Lydia is queen, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, Stiles goes on vacation, Werewolves, all of the fluff, fluffy fluff, might be triggering for panic attacks, request fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4981282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tainted_Grace/pseuds/Tainted_Grace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Got another request from my Beta, Mary. So I am sharing it with all of you lovely people.</p>
<p>Okay so I need one where Stiles is your best friend and like you guys spend a lot of time together and then he has to go out of town for his grandma or something. Well, you have the worst week of your life and he isn’t there and you have a breakdown and come home and he is at your house (back a day early) which he got into because he obviously has a key. And you hug him and then I need fluff and lots of it. And he has to let you know that he missed you so yeah, kisses and fluff and all things nice.</p>
<p>P.S. I trust you with this and I really want a lot stress on the fact that he is always next to you and everything he does makes you feel okay again and he makes you laugh and I NEED THIS TO BE PERFECT lol but I trust you with it. No pressure, hon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing You Already

**Author's Note:**

> Mary, you amazing human being, I am sorry for the 'super stressful, super long' wait. I hope this more than makes up for it.

“Stiles!” I scream in terror, backing away as a massive monster of an Alpha charges right at me. I whip my head back only to find that I can go no further because of a brick wall behind me. I gulp and my eyes go wide as the werewolf stalks towards me, clearly going slow, knowing that it has all the time in the world.

I close my eyes when it gets close enough that I can feel the heat of its breath on my face, wishing I had at least gotten to tell Stiles how I feel before I die. And then I hear the glass shatter into a billion piece from somewhere above my head and then the earth-shaking roar that follows. Seconds later something barrels into me from the left and I crash to the ground with the force of the impact. The fall causes me to gasp, all of the air leaving my lungs, and then I’m forcing my eyes open and coughing on the rancid air that I breathe in, my eyes burning from the immediate heat and stench.

It smells like burnt hair and rotten meat as well as a few chemical mixtures that I don’t recognize. It takes me less than a second to re-register the heat on my face and then my eyes widen as I watch the Alpha burn to a crisp in front of me, eventually falling to the ground, dead. After I get over the initial shock of the monster being dead not six feet from my face, I begin to feel my body shaking from the fear I had been hiding and pushing to the back of my brain for the last two hours. I try to get up and groan as my shoulder buckles in protest under the weight of something holding me down. I look above me, my eyes watering from the heat of Lydia’s self-igniting Molotov cocktails doing their jobs, and see the blurry form of a shaved head of dark hair.

My limbs instantly relax at the sight. Even if it is just the side of his head, I could recognize Stiles anywhere. Ever since we were kids and my dad left, Stiles has been there for me, keeping me strong, helping me when I have a panic attack, being there for me when I feel like life is too much. Stiles has been my anchor for years, even though I’m just as human as he is. I groan as the pain in my right shoulder grows to a constant throbbing. I try to roll to my feet and fail because of Stiles’ body trapping me to the grass.

“Stiles.” I groan out and his head whips around so fast I’m almost afraid that he might have given himself whiplash.

“Yeah?” He asks and I can’t seem to find my voice. His face is just above mine, tinged slightly pink from the heat of the fire and the exertion of running for our lives once again.

“Can you get off of me now, please?” I whimper and he instantly jumps to his feet with this guilty look on his face. He quickly helps me to my feet, which leads to me getting and elbow to the jaw and a palm to the very sore ribs on my right side that hit a tree when Peter decided to throw me through the woods like a rag doll. He apologizes for hurting me and then for tackling me out of the way, all the time looking as adorable as I’ve ever see him. I can feel the bruise literally forming on my shoulder, but it’s almost instantly forgotten when Stiles grabs my face and tilts it to the side to check on a cut I got on my cheek from some twigs as we fell. I can’t breathe as he examines the wound, only being able to exhale when he gives me the okay and turns to check on the rest of our friends. I run to Lydia and wrap her in a hug, happy that she is okay.

“Hey, Mare. Are you alright?” She asks and I nod, eyes trained on the 147 pound teenage boy talking animatedly to Scott on the other end of the clearing.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Stiles pushed me out of the way.” I nod, causing her to chuckle under her breath.

“When are you going to tell him that you’re madly in love with him?” She sighs out like the weight of the world is on her shoulders.

“When he finally stops obsessing over you.” I counter and the smirk instantly drops from her face, leaving a pitying frown in its place that makes me pissed that she brought it up in the first place. Instead of opening that old wound I just walk away from her to make sure that Peter is deader than dead and everyone else is fine.

…

Stiles saves my life more times than I can count throughout the course of high school. In middle school Stiles saved me from myself. He kept me sane and made me feel safe when I thought no one cared. In high school, though, he’s saved me from Derek Hale’s homicidal Alpha-uncle, a pack of killer Alphas on a mission to wipe out the Hale pack and make Scott join their ranks, and a crazy Darach set on murdering everyone in the town to wake up some magical tree stump in the middle of the woods.

Every single time something has happened in this town, be it supernatural or otherwise, Stiles is always there for me. Until he’s not.

…

“Hey, Mare. You ready for today?” Stiles asks, gripping my shoulders before plopping gracelessly into the seat beside me.

“You know I hate Mondays.” I grumble and he just chuckles.

“And I thought _Derek_ was grumpy.”

“What are you all chipper about today?” I ask and he instantly sits at attention, clearly glad that I asked.

“Dad and I are going to see my grandma in Poland.” He beams and I feel instantly guilty for the pang of selfish jealousy that washes over me. I don’t want Stiles to go to Poland! That is literally half way across the bloody world for crying out loud! “I haven’t seen her since I was a baby and Dad got a few days off so we’re gonna make the trip.”

“That’s great, Stiles! When are you leaving?” I say, hoping no one can see the scared glint hidden deep in my eyes. Stiles leaving town? That’s just about the _worst_ thing that could possibly happen with everything that’s been going on.

I know Scott can tell how I really feel when he looks at me with this expression that even a puppy dog would find pathetic. “We’re leaving Thursday and we’ll be gone all of spring break.” He tells me and I force the panic I can feel rising on the back of my neck to stay buried deep inside the pit of my stomach.

What am I supposed to do without Stiles for two weeks? This town can’t even go two days without something trying to destroy it from the ground up! I nod and listen to him tell us about his grandma without saying a word. I can’t help the twinge of my lips that keeps my smile on just this side of believable, because I really am happy that he is getting to see his grandma, but I am so scared of what could possibly happen while he’s gone.

Scott walks with me to class since Stiles has AP Chem with Lydia second period and Scott and I have Physics with Mr. Harris. “Why don’t you just tell him?”

“Tell him what? That I don’t want him to fly halfway around the world to go see his grandmother that he hasn’t even _talked_ to in _months_?” I hiss at him when we sit down in our usual seats in the back of the room. “You really think I’m that selfish?”

“No, I don’t. You’re terrified, Mary. Of what might happen while he’s away. He could see right through your mask, Mare. You told Lydia you would tell him just how much you care about him when he stopped obsessing over her. That happened almost two years ago. I can’t stand to see you do this to yourself. He needs to know.” Scott presses and I want to snap at him for how logical he is sounding right now.

“I’ll tell him when he gets back, okay? Now drop it.” I growl, understanding why Derek doesn’t like most of the werewolves in town. They’re persistent, yes, but annoyingly so.

Scott huffs, but turns to face the front of the room just as Harris walks in the door. We don’t talk the rest of the period and then we meet back up with Stiles and Lydia for Econ with Coach. The entire class is spent with me staring at the back of Stiles’ head, loving the way that his hair looks now that he’s grown it out a little bit. I glance down at my paper and my eyebrows draw together in confusion when I see my hand wrapped around the pencil. I blink and rub at my eyes before counting my fingers again. One. Two. Three. Four. Five… Six.

…

I gasp and sit up, panting and sweaty. “Whoa! Easy there, Little Lamb!” Stiles’ soothing voice chuckles and I sigh in relief, falling back onto my pillows and wondering how much of that was a dream and how much of it was memory.

Stiles answers the question for me when he opens his mouth from the foot of my bed. “Hey, don’t forget, spring break starts tomorrow, which means I’m leaving for Poland in less than 48 hours.”

“Yeah, I know.” I nod. Okay, memories then.

“You’re gonna be alright, yeah?” He asks, voice sounding low and serious.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” I ask him, not wanting to admit how dependent I am on him.

“No reason. You just seem a little pale. Bad dream?” He asks, pressing his wrist to my forehead to feel my temperature.

“More like bad memories. It was like a montage of everything from Peter to that witch from a few weeks ago.” I groan out, crawling from the warmth of my covers and walking into my closet to get ready for the last day of school for the next two weeks.

“I get those all the time. I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and feel Peter’s claws wrapped around my wrist, or see Scott being attacked by an entire pack of Alphas. Do you remember that Djinn we fought before winter break?” He asks, sitting on the edge of my bed and looking towards the closet when I poke my head out to gauge his expression.

“Yeah,” I sigh, remembering the row of stitches on my hip that Deaton had to put in place. I pull on my favorite pair of ripped jeans and a tank top, followed by the oversized Batman hoodie that Stiles sent me home in one night and I never gave back. “She nearly killed you. It’d be kind of hard to forget.”

“She almost killed you, too.” He argues and I think back to the world that the poison rushing my veins opened up for me.

_Stiles and I are sitting at a long dining table, our ankles wrapped around each other under the elegant white table cloth. Across from us sits our parents, both our moms and our dads, with huge smiles on their faces. To our left are Scott and his mom, Melissa. Even his dad is there, cutting the giant ham sitting at the end of the table. It must be Thanksgiving or Christmas with the amount of food on the table, but I am too distracted with the way Stiles is smirking at me to focus on the banquet for too long._

_His eyes are like molten honey, dancing around his pupils with dark promise that makes me fidget in my chair. I try to hold back a blush and then Stiles’ hand is slipping into mine under the table. I huff out a breath that no one notices over the amiable chatter amongst everyone’s parents. Stiles’ smirk widens and I have to hold back the urge to slap the look right off his features._

_One second we’re sitting at the table with the feast before us, Stiles’ eyes in the process of undressing me, and the next I am standing in a dark warehouse that I vaguely recognize from the rave a few years back. I can’t hear anything, but I can see Isaac and Erica dancing with Jackson and trying to lure him away from the crowd. I can see Scott and Allison talking and I can see Matt glaring at my friend with murder in his eyes. My hand clenches into a fist and then Stiles is forcing the appendage open with a coaxing hand. Once the tension runs out of me he laces our fingers together and I sigh in relief, my eyes fluttering closed as I ground myself in the moment._

_“What would you have done if I had kissed you while you hand your head tilted back like that? What would you have done if I had pulled you to a corner where the light dances mysteriously and kissed you crazy until your mind went numb?” He whispers in my ear. I freeze up, his nose brushing its way down my neck before his tongue licks from my collar bone to my jaw. “Would you have liked it? Of course you would’ve. You love me.”_

_“Where’s Stiles?” I gasp out, my body fighting against my brain. I know that this man touching me is not Stiles, is not MY Stiles, but my body wants to just lean into his touch and give in._

_“I’m Stiles. You never answered my question.” He responds, his voice sickly sweet and smooth as silk in my ear._

_“Stiles would never do this to me. Who are you?” I question again, earning a throaty chuckle from Not-Stiles._

_“I’m whoever you want me to be.” The familiar voice says, shifting into a deeper tone that brings tears to my eyes._

_When I look up I see my Dad standing there, his green eyes boring into my matching ones with an intensity that I remember vividly. “Stop.” I beg, eyes going blurry with tears I don’t want to let fall._

_“Fine.” He sighs._

_With a snap of his fingers I am standing in the same warehouse as before, except the setting is different. There are no people apart from me and the shadowy figure cloaked in darkness at the other end of the room. The music I could feel pulsing through the space is gone, as well as all of my friends._

_When the shadow talks I can hear the voices of every person I’ve ever cared about in that one tone. “My name is Djinn. You’ve never had to deal with my kind, which means by the time your friends figure out how to kill me, you and Stiles will both be dead, and I’ll be in the wind. Unless you can find the will to end it now.”_

_“What are you talking about?”_

_“I gave a gift. I don’t like to bring my victims pain. I send them to Death with a smile on their face. I make sure that they get to do whatever they never got to have a chance to do before I kill them. If they can realize that it’s an illusion, as you have, the next step is to break free of it. I’ve only ever had one person break free of my poison and he’s been hunting his entire life. I doubt you’ll be able to do the same.” The shadow laughs, stepping towards me but just managing to avoid the light._

_“How do I break free?”_

_“Why would you want to? I’m giving you everything you’ve ever wanted. Your father back, Stiles clinging to your every word, Scott’s parents back together, Lydia’s parents back together, you even wanted Derek to be happy. I gave you all of that, and yet you want to go back to reality. Why?”_

_“Because it’s not real. It’s only an illusion. You may be in my head, in my blood, but there are some things about my friends that you could never copy. And it’s those things that I love the best.” I tell the Djinn and a chuckle rumbles through the space._

_“You want reality? I have Stiles too. He’s hanging right beside you, his blood slowly draining from his body. He’s almost dead, just give it a few more hours and he’ll die. You’re a fighter though, you still have about a day. Maybe if you’re lucky your friends will show up just in time to bury you together.”_

_“You call this peace? Giving me what I wanted? I wanted Stiles, yes. But I want Stiles, not some illusion. I want him, in the flesh, in my arms. I want his smile, his warmth, his tears, his frown, even his clumsiness. I wouldn’t trade a second of it. So don’t tell me that this is better than reality, because at least there I have all those things. Here you just made him that guy I imagined. He isn’t that guy. He’s awkward and clumsy and takes enough Adderall for about four people, but he’s still mine. Just not in the way I expected when I fell for him.” I growl, feeling insulted that the Djinn thought it could replicate Stiles._

_“Fine. The kill yourself.”_

_“What?”_

_“You want out? How do you get out of a dream?” The voices scream, the sound pounding harshly on my ears._

_“You convince your body you’re in danger.” I gasp. “Why are you letting me out?”_

_“You’re stubborn. As much as I love my meal spicy, you’d just give me heart burn. Get lost, before I change my mind.”_

_The sound of a knife sliding across the concrete towards me should not be as familiar as it is. I reach down and grip the black wrapped handle, positioning the blade over my stomach and taking a deep breath. I plunge the blade in to the very hilt and drop to the ground unconscious._

“Almost. But you go us out.” Stiles reminds me and I pull my hair up into a messy bun, sitting next to him on the bed as I put my favorite pair of black Converse on. “Do you remember what she said to you?”

“No. All I remember is her hand on my forehead and then I was gasping into consciousness and dragging us both out of there.” I lie, glad that Stiles isn’t a werewolf.

“It’s probably better that way. She showed me my mom. My Dad was happy. I was happy. You were there, and so was Scott. Everything was perfect. I almost didn’t wanna wake up, you know?” He admits, his hands rubbing together in that distracting way of his that he does whenever he is trying to keep himself together.

“We need to get to school.” I admit, grabbing my bag and walking out towards the Jeep parked in my driveway. I glance at Mom’s empty parking spot, knowing that she has a double shift at the hospital with Melissa and they’re probably just sleeping there. Stiles and I don’t talk all the way to school and I don’t wait for him when we get out.

Lydia can instantly tell something is off when she sees me walking five paces ahead of the brunette but I shake my head and pull her along with me until we get to the girls’ bathroom. “Out,” I order to the girls fixing their make-up in the mirrors. The grumble but make their way out and then I lock the door.

“What’s gotten into you? Are you okay?” Lydia asks, her posture giving away her ill-concealed sass.

“He brought up the Djinn. I try not to think about it.” I groan, knowing that I can trust Lydia. She is the only person that I told the entire story to, and even then she wanted to tell Allison, but I knew the huntress would want to tell Scott, who would in turn tell Stiles and I just couldn’t have that happening after everything I’ve done to keep Stiles from finding out that I like him.

“Oh, sweetie. Did you tell that you remember?”

“No. What am I gonna do, Lyds? Just the thought of him not being here has me on edge. I am so pathetic.”

“No you’re not. You’re stubborn, but you’re not pathetic. If I were you, I would tell him. He deserves to know, either way. And I think you know that.”

“Stop making sense.” I pout, sitting on the counter between the sinks and watching her pace in her ridiculous heels.

“It’s my job to make sense, Mary. One of has to.” She jokes, effectively pulling me out of my head.

The rest of the day I feel more like myself, knowing that Stiles will be back in just 12 short days. Even though I know it isn’t that long, it still makes my stomach drop every time I think about it. Lydia promises to come over and keep me distracted, which means she’s gonna get me wasted so I forget about him. Normally I decline the offer, but I decide to accept since I don’t feel like dealing for the weekend.

…

After school I follow Stiles to his house and hang out with him until his dad gets off work at six. They load their suitcases and carry-ons into the trunk of my navy blue Chevy Cruze – compliments of Lydia and her dad for my sixteenth birthday – and Stiles climbs into the backseat. The Sheriff slides into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh. Less than sixty seconds later I back out of the Stilinski driveway and turn to drive towards the airport. It takes a good hour and a half to get to the nearest international airport and the entire ride Stiles quizzes his dad to makes sure they didn’t forget anything.

After Stiles is done with his double-checking he relaxes back against the seat, his body shifting to sink into the plush material like it was made for him. I once again find myself wondering how he can look so effortlessly sexy and not even realize it. It’s nearly dark by the time we get to the airport, but I still walk the pair all the way to the security gate so I can say good bye there. I don’t say anything the entire walk from the car to the security gate, listening to Stiles and his dad go back and forth about flight plans and connecting flights. I’m so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I nearly jump out of my skin when a pair of warm arms wrap around me and squeeze tight.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Stiles mumbles in my ear, his hug forcing my head into the crook of his neck.

I can smell his cologne that he always wears, but under that I can smell the aroma of him, the one that really has no description because it’s just _Stiles_. I instantly wrap my arms around his back, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as I burrow my face further into his neck. When I glance up after a second I can see his dad standing there with this knowing smirk on his face that makes my cheeks tint red. When he catches my eyes his face softens into this loving expression that I imagine is what a proud father looks like.

“I’m gonna miss you too, Stiles.” I croak out, and it’s then that I realize that I am on the verge of tears.

He lets go of me just as the first tears fall and then he’s using his sleeve to wipe the wetness from my face. His own eyes are shiny, but he isn’t crying so I turn slightly to take a deep breath and compose myself. He turns me back to face him with a gentle hand on my chin. When I look up into his molten brown eyes he smiles softly. “If you need anything, and I mean _anything_ , just call me. I don’t care if it’s three in the morning in Poland, you call and I’ll answer. Deal?”

I am too moved to trust my voice so I just nod and he pulls me into another bone crushing hug. I chuckle when he digs his fingers into my sides, squirming away from the tickling with a smile. Even though he isn’t a very affectionate man, John gives me a hug before he is following Stiles through the gate and leaving me standing there with a feeling of dread and emptiness. I wait until they pass out of my line of sight to leave. I walk back out to my car and hear my phone ding with a new text as I open my door. I slide into the seat and shut the door before daring to look, knowing it’s probably mom saying she is going to spend the night at the hospital again.

When I type in my password – Stiles and Scott’s jersey numbers – I nearly break.

**From Stiles:**

_See you in 12 days. Missing you already. ;D_

…

A few minutes later my mom texts me to tell me exactly what I thought; due to short staffing and the holiday, she and Melissa are pulling another double shift. She tells me that there is ravioli in the pantry and I remind her that I am going to grab some fast food on the way back from dropping off Stiles and his dad at the airport. She calls me, freaking out and apologizing for completely having forgotten about me dropping them off. She promises to take me to the mall when she has a day off to get the boots that I’ve been wanting for weeks.

After she hangs up I start my car and drive back towards Beacon Hills. I know Lydia will be waiting at my house for me and I find myself extremely grateful for the banshee. Without her I would probably sit in my room staring at the wall and eat an entire thing of ice cream. Which I still might do when she leaves. By the time I get back to my house the reality of Stiles’ absence hits me like a ton of bricks. Like I expected, Lydia’s shiny red Mustang is sitting in my mom’s parking space and the living room light is on.

When she hears my car pull in she comes to the door and holds it open for me. When I get to the thick wooden door she grabs me by the shoulders and looks into my red rimmed eyes with a sad look before nodding. “Just as I thought. We’ll start with the Jack.”

…

It’s been 10 days since I dropped Stiles and John off at the airport and it has been the most boring week and a half of my life. Lydia took me shopping twice and my mom took me once, but we didn’t end up getting the boots I wanted after all. Mom has been working pretty much every day so spend most of my time playing Stiles for Derek and his teen wolfs or watching re-runs of MTV shows.

Despite me expecting the worst, spring break hasn’t actually been that bad. I’ve only had to help stop the town from being destroyed once, and even then it was something small that took no more than two days to fix. Thanks to all the spare time on my hands, Lydia and I have nearly completely translated the bestiary and Danny has been nice enough to upload the translations to a file on the pack iCloud where it can be easily accessed. I’ve only texted Stiles a few times to ask for his advice or complain about Derek being a stubborn asshole, but other than that I have tried to avoid texting him so he can spend time with his grandma.

By day 10 Derek is out of things for me to do, so I shut and lock my window and take some of my doctor approved sleeping pills and go to bed early.

…

At first I can’t tell if I’m dreaming or if I am just trapped in my own head, thinking up scenarios that will never actually happen, but when I see the basement of Eichen House I am willing to believe the former, because I know that anything that happens in this place is plausible in Beacon Hills. I can feel goosebumps rising on my arms and I sigh, rubbing my hands across my skin to try and warm myself up.

That’s when I look down and see my pajamas, confirming that this is a dream. It doesn’t help my sense of security knowing that none of this is really, especially not when I hear the pained scream coming from the other side of the broken boiler beside me. I would know that scream anywhere because it’s the sound that breaks my heart into a billion pieces. I run to the other side of the iron boiler, my feet freezing against the cold concrete when I see a crumpled form writhing in pain. I force myself to move towards the sound of Stiles suffering, my tears threatening to spill over. I get to a spot directly beside him and go to lean down, only to find myself frozen in place by some invisible force.

Every time I try to move, my body refuses to obey. I watch Stiles writhe in pain, his body stretching and curling in on itself to try to find a way to relieve the pain. I stop fighting to move so I can try to figure out what’s wrong with him. That’s when I see the bear trap clenched around his ankle. He must be freezing. All he’s wearing is a dark blue t-shirt and his plaid sleep pants, which are covered in thick red blood because of the trap. I whimper and try to fight against the force, desperate to pull the bear trap off of him. I beg and scream and cry and fight, but no matter what I do Stiles continues to suffer not two feet from my face.

And then I hear the voice.

I can’t make out individual words, but I can hear its voice. If you could even call it that. The sound of it is more like a hiss than a voice, and I can feel fresh goosebumps rising on my skin at the cold feeling wrapping around my spine. With every word I can’t hear Stiles grows more and more desperate, clawing at the trap and sobbing in pain. It doesn’t take long for his voice to fade. When I can no longer hear him I scream as loud as I can, the hissing sound of the unseen thing lurking in the shadows growing louder and clearer with every passing second.

“I’m going to kill him, Mary.” It hisses and I bolt upright, still screaming.

…

I struggle against the pressure on my shoulders, tears rolling down my cheeks in droves. I can still hear the promise in that voice, the danger and clarity of just what it was saying hitting me harder than anything I’ve ever experienced. It takes two seconds for my fear to turn into panic and then I’m gasping for air, hearing voices ringing above me but all I can focus on is getting the pressure off of my shoulders. All I can think about is getting free.

As it gets harder to breath my hearing clears and I stop screaming, my outcries turning into broken sobs and whimpers. I can finally hear and I realize I’m in my bed in my house in Beacon Hills. There is no disembodied voice. There is no bloodied and broken Stiles at my feet. But the pressure on my shoulders is still there, steady and restricting. I keep trying to buck the feeling off, desperate to get loose. I almost get free and then the pressure tightens and there is the sick feeling of something wrapping around my legs now too.

“MARY!” Scott’s voice bellows and I gasp one final time, his Alpha tone freezing me into submission just like the wolves in his pack.

I can feel the panic still sitting low in my bones but I can finally breathe. I blink slowly and when I open my eyes again I see my mom standing over me with tears in her eyes. I can see Melissa McCall holding down my legs and I can feel the strong presence of Scott behind me. I realize then that it was his arms holding my shoulders down. He was protecting me from myself and trying to get the panic to subside. But how did he-?

“How did you-?” I gasp out, my breathing evening out as I relax.

I’m fine, I’m safe. There’s no reason to be scared, no reason to panic. “I could hear you screaming all the way at my house.” Scott admits, finally letting me go and shifting around so he can look me in the eyes.

When I look at him his eyes are glowing red. My mom has known about werewolves almost as long as Melissa so it doesn’t even phase her when he glances up at her with those same red orbs and asks her to fix me a glass of water. The second she is out the door he turns back to me. “What did you see? What happened?”

“I was in Eichen House. Stiles was there, but I couldn’t touch him, or help him. There was a bear trap on his ankle.” I start to cry and Scott shushes me, running a hand through my hair to calm me back down in a way that Stiles must have taught him before he left.

“You don’t have to tell me right now. Calm down, you’re fine. I’m right here. You’re safe.” He assures me and it really does help to hear the words from my Alpha.

“Thanks, Scott. For hearing me.” I sigh out, feeling more exhausted than before but too afraid to sleep.

“Any time. You should try to get some sleep. I’ll stay if you want me to.” He promises and I down the water that my mom holds out to me.

“I’ll stay too.” Melissa promises, kneeling beside my bed with a comforting look that only a mother could give. “Your mom has a surgery in an hour, though.”

“After that I can take the rest of the night off though.” Mom says from over Melissa’s shoulder and I nod, resting my head in Scott’s lap and feeling my eyes droop.

“Scott?” I ask through half-lidded eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell Stiles.” I beg and I can feel sleep dragging me down before he answers my plea.

…

Then next day I pull myself out of bed, seeing Scott sleeping in the chair by my window. I chuckle and let him sleep, going to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready to go help Lydia set up for the spring formal tomorrow night. Stupidly enough, Beacon Hills makes their spring formal – their version of Prom – the day after spring break ends so anyone who wants to help set up has to spend the last day of their vacation decorating the gym when they could be sleeping. And thanks to Lydia I end up helping every year.

By the time I am ready to walk out the door I have convinced Scott that I really am fine and it was all just a bad dream. If Lydia sees the dark circles under my eyes she doesn’t say anything, which I am extremely grateful for. She just pulls me into a hug and we go about decorating the gym into something that could pass for a party setting.

…

It’s almost 8 o’clock by the time I get home to find the driveway empty. Mom is pulling another double – seriously, can’t the hospital hire another surgeon – so I am ready to just eat some ice cream and curl up on the couch and watch Maze Runner for the thousandth time. I climb out of the car, my every muscle protesting the physical labor that Lydia made me do for almost 12 hours straight. I don’t bother to turn the living room light on, walking through the familiar darkness to the kitchen.

I nearly scream when feel arms wrap around me, but the sound cuts off when I smell cologne. Stiles’ cologne. But Stiles is in Poland…

I reach over and flick the light on, seeing a very worried Stiles staring down at me. I can see deep dark circles under his eyes and I pull him into a hug when I realize that he is really there. He chuckles, squeezing me to his chest like a protective blanket. I instantly feel safe and calm, my muscles relaxing like they haven’t since he left. I remember in that instant why he is my anchor.

Once I can pull back I sigh, breathing in his scent to reassure myself one final time that I’m not dreaming. I look up at his face, my eyes re-memorizing every line and curve of his features and committing them to memory. I see the dark circles and my fingers instantly reach up to trip over the marks, my eyebrows drawing together in confusion and concern.

“You haven’t been sleeping?” I wonder, knowing that Stiles can literally fall asleep at the drop of a hat.

“Are you okay?” He asks in response and my heart drops into my stomach.

“Scott told you?” I ask, my face probably giving away my intent to kill.

“So I was right?” He asks and I know that Scott didn’t say a word.

“I had a panic attack last night. How did you know about that?” I ask, still not allowing myself to move more than four inches away from his body yet. I’m so terrified that if I’m not touching him in some way he is going to disappear.

“I had this feeling that something was wrong. I begged Dad to come back early and he said yes. We got on a plane this morning.” He explains and I sigh in relief, digging my head into his neck and pulling him close again.

When I let go of the hug this time he is smiling down at me with this look in his eyes that I have never seen before. “What?”

“You missed me.” He states, sounding positive that he’s right.

“So? What if I did?” I reply, feeling my cheeks heat up under his intense stare.

“I missed you more.” He whispers, kissing my forehead.

“Not possible.” I counter, daring him to disagree.

“You know, I never actually realized how much I would miss you until I was gone?” He asks and I tilt my head in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” I ask and he smiles softly down at me, his face ridiculously and distractingly close to mine.

“I always thought you would be there. And not having you there made me realize just how much I wanted to do this.” He mutters, his face even closer than before.

Before I can even open my mouth to ask what on earth he is talking about, he tilts his head slightly and presses forward, bridging the last few centimeters between us. The moment his lips touch mine I feel my knees try to give out so I wrap my arms around his neck to keep myself on my feet.

…

If you asked me how long we stood there just kissing, enjoying the feel of each other finally, I could tell you minutes, or I could tell you hours, and both would be equally as correct. We don’t do more than that, pulling away when we run out of air and panting for oxygen with our foreheads resting against each other. Our eyes flit from lips to cheeks to eyes and back, doing circuits of our features.

“Feel free to do that whenever you want, okay?” I finally manage to whisper, my voice threatening to crack.

“Mm. I may take you up on that offer.” He warns and I nod.

“I’m counting on it.” I chuckle and he kisses me one more time before pulling back and looking at me from head to toe.

“You need sleep. Today was deco-day for the dance, which means Lydia had you running for hours. Speaking of which, Mary Anne Robyns, would you be my date to the Spring Formal?” He asks and I nod, pecking him on his ridiculously attractive lips with the biggest grin on my face.

“Of course, you idiot.”

“Good. Why don’t you go sleep and I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Say, about 6?” He asks and I nod, knowing that I will be able to sleep without having a nightmare finally.

“I think that could work.” I nod, following him back towards the living room where the front door and the stairs leading to mine and my mom’s rooms are.

He walks out the door after kissing me a final time and then he pokes his head back in with a smirk. “Mary?”

“Stiles?”

“I’m missing you already.” He winks and I resist the urge to make him stay.

“You too, Stiles.”

The door shuts behind him and I lean against the wall halfway up the stairs for a while, just staring at the door and wondering how tomorrow will go.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave a comment and let me know if I should continue this verse or if you have an idea for another fic. Requests are welcome as is constructive criticism. You can find me on Tumblr too, my username is Sterekinatrenchcoat.


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